Engine Trouble
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Elena resorts to drastic measures to keep Damon from leaving town on Christmas Eve, and the resulting "mess" leads to some major bathtub confessions. One-shot written for LJ A2A Delena Holiday Exchange.


**Engine Trouble**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary**: Elena resorts to drastic measures to keep Damon from leaving town on Christmas Eve, and the resulting "mess" leads to some major bathtub confessions. One-shot written for LJ A2A Delena Holiday Exchange.

**A/N**: A holiday thank you note to one of our best TVD/DE cheerleaders – in answer to Kate's (aka This Is My Escape) LJ A2A Delena Holiday Exchange Prompt:

_Damon hates Christmas. He decides now is the perfect time to keep his end of the deal by leaving MF. As he carries his bags out to the Camaro, Elena shows up and is determined to not only convince him to stay, but give him a reason to smile during the holidays._

Tweaked the prompt a little so I could bring the story current through Episode 4X09.

_**HUGE thanks to the very talented, very busy Sandra (dutchtreat) for providing beta assistance on this one – so great to finally work with you! – and to Katie (shipperjunkie) for the smut-seal-of-approval pre-read ;) Both ladies are amazing authors, so be sure to check out their stories too!**_

**Disclaimer**: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.

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"Elena!"

_Finally… That_ was the reaction she had been waiting for.

She grinned, extremely proud of herself, as she drained the last drop of vintage champagne from the bottle she'd nicked out of the obscenely overstocked wine cellar downstairs. The only thing the Salvatores seemed to have more of than books was booze ... and Damon and Stefan had _a lot_ of books.

Letting the empty bottle drop and roll across the slate floor, she sank back down into the exquisitely simplistic, absolutely perfect, bathtub. She'd filled it with scalding hot water and the bubble bath she'd found underneath the sink, its rich vanilla scent permeating the steam sodden air around her. She had been right – she definitely needed to hang out here more. Leaning her head back against the tub's edge and adjusting her hair bun to keep it out of the water, she draped her arms over the side and waited for him, knowing the clatter of the champagne bottle had clued him in on her exact whereabouts.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when she heard his bedroom door slam open, hitting the wall behind it so hard that she wondered if it had come off of its hinges. But then she heard it swing shut again, followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place, and she knew at least that particular part of the room was safe. Given how angry she figured he must be, she couldn't say the same would hold true for the rest of the furnishings, or her, for that matter, but she found herself too relaxed to worry about that much at the moment.

"How dare you?!" Damon furiously bellowed, as his footsteps approached the bathroom. "You mangled my - "

She knew the reason his words and steps had stopped abruptly. He thought he'd already seen the worst of it when he'd checked under the hood of his precious Camaro. Nope. That was just part one.

For part two, she'd strewn the car parts out across his white cotton bed sheets, making a huge black greasy mess, knowing it'd irritate the hell out of his inner neat freak. Sure it was petty, but at the time, her own emotions had been swinging wildly between frantic desperation to keep him there, and blind rage at him for even considering leaving her again.

Right now, however, after a blood bag, a bottle of champagne and a half-hour soaking in his divine bathtub while waiting for him to arrive and discover her treachery, she was just very amused.

"Fuck! What the hell, Elena?" He howled from beside his bed, lamenting her handiwork, and she could hear him picking up and inspecting the various engine pieces she'd removed, no doubt making an even bigger mess.

"You were going to leave," she replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious explanation in the world. "I did what I had to do."

"So you decided to pull a Sister Berthe and rip out the guts of my car?" He hollered back, storming into the bathroom and grabbing a hand towel to try and wipe away the grease stains on his hands and forearms.

"Caroline may have forced me to watch the Sound of Music _a billion_ times," she answered with a shrug. Sure, a billion was an overstatement, but she really had been made to watch that damn movie more times than she could count. Turned out it had been good for something other than teaching her Do-Re-Mi.

"Forgive me, Damon, for I have sinned," she snickered, letting her arms plop back down into the tub and sending water spilling over the edge. His shoulders and jaw tensed as he took in a deep calming breath before turning to face her. She tried her best to look contrite, but failed miserably at fighting back the grin tugging up the corners of her mouth.

Damon raised his hand, pointing his finger at her, with what she assumed was a profanity-laced tirade on the tip of his tongue, but his words died and his eyes widened as he took in the entire scene around her.

"And then you helped yourself to my bathroom and my wine cellar?" He snapped, throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the sink. "Nice, Elena. Real nice."

"I had grease all over me," she replied coyly, pitching her voice somewhere between mock innocence and a seductive purr. "And so do you now. Why don't you ditch that towel and get in here with me … I'll clean you off."

She nearly laughed out loud at the myriad of emotions that flashed across his face – anger, amusement, frustration, pride and maybe even a little lust. His line of sight strayed to her breasts, floating just below the bubbles, and he shifted his legs, clearly becoming uncomfortable in other places too. Okay, maybe a lot of lust.

"This does not make me happy, Elena," he gritted out between clenched teeth, as he roughly resumed wiping the grease off his hands and arms with the towel.

"That's kind of the point, Damon," she told him, leaning forward and sending a splash of water in his direction, capturing his gaze again and locking his stormy blue eyes with her determined brown ones. "Now get in the fucking tub."

Cocking his head and leveling her with an angry glare, he paused momentarily to consider her demand and then walked to the side of the tub to stand over her. When the tight line of his lips finally gave way to that smirk she adored way too much for her own good, she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she'd won this round.

"Look who's giving orders now," he joked, tenderly gliding one of his few unmarred fingers along her upturned cheek before peeling off his shirt and sitting down on the edge of the tub to remove his boots.

Unable to resist touching him a second longer, she reached out her arm and ran a warm wet hand across his well-defined shoulder blades and down the valley of his back, tracing his spine. She heard him gasp and felt the tremors that rippled beneath his skin, following the path of her fingers. It had been two weeks since they'd last seen each other, kissed each other, touched each other – and it felt like an eternity. He'd set her free, staying behind with Jeremy at the Lake House, but the pain of being separated from him had been worse than anything she could have imagined, even more agonizing than when Stefan had been gone over the summer.

Elena knew it was more than just the sire bond, if the damn thing even really existed. She'd felt uneasy with him gone, waiting for the other shoe to drop, because that's what _always_ happened on the rare occasions when he left – being attacked by Stefan and used as a human blood bag by Klaus, dying after Rebekah ran her and Matt off Wickery Bridge, getting taken hostage by warring factions of hybrids. Shit always hit the fan when Damon was gone.

And she was lonely. God, was she lonely, she thought, resting her head against this bare back and inhaling his scent. With Damon, Jeremy and Matt all at the Lake House over the past two weeks, her entire support system had vanished. She'd been left alone with people who couldn't, or didn't want to, understand her any longer – forced to carry the weight of Stefan and Caroline's judgment on her solitary shoulders. Bonnie had done her best to mediate, serving as the reluctant peacekeeper, but the witch wasn't a vampire. She couldn't understand the depth of any of their feelings – Stefan's betrayal, Caroline's disappointment and her profound lonesomeness. She was quickly coming to the belief that only _this man_, the one she'd considered her rock for some time now, and had recently begun to realize may be her true other half, really understood her – past and present.

"Are you going to let me get in that tub with you or not?" Damon asked with a chuckle that rumbled through his chest and to her cheek that was still pressed against his back.

"Sorry, I've just missed you," she whispered, dropping a soft kiss on the exposed skin right above his jean-clad hip before reclining back in the tub.

"I know," he mumbled, grasping her hand and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, "The feeling's mutual."

He stood then, unbuckling his belt and shucking his pants and boxer-briefs. He bent down, gathering up his pile of grease-stained clothing, and tossed them into the hamper.

Catching her hungry gaze, he paused, giving her a few seconds to openly admire him, before he tapped the back of her shoulder and stepped into the tub. "Scoot your ass forward, you dirty nun."

"I'm pretty sure I'd burst into flames the minute I set foot in a convent," she conceded, as he lowered himself behind her.

"I don't think you'd make it past the gates," he teased, earning an elbow to the ribs for his jest and prompting a sound of mock indignation that gave way to laughter on both their parts.

She relaxed against his chest as he stretched his legs out on either side of her, twining them with her own, while she laced their fingers together and pulled his arms around her waist, tightening their embrace.

"Now you're all greasy again," he murmured, lowering his head and skimming his nose and lips along her exposed neck, leaving kisses in his wake.

"Good thing we're in a tub," she purred in reply, shifting back to get closer and rub against his growing erection.

"Elena-" he hissed in warning, though his efforts to still her movements were severely undercut by the involuntary thrust of his hips and his short shallow breaths echoing in her ear. She turned her head and buried her wicked smiled against his neck, immensely satisfied that his desire for her had not diminished during their separation. It was no small comfort to know, despite all the chaos with Jeremy, the cure and the ridiculous sire bond swirling around them, that that one basic truth remained.

After a few seconds, she heard his breathing even out and felt his arms relax around her, pulling her closer as he set his chin on the crown of her head.

"So, who sold me out?" he asked.

"Jeremy," she told him. "I got anxious when you didn't show up with him at the house tonight. He said you walked to the cemetery to visit Ric but that you were leaving soon, so I bailed on Caroline's farce of a family dinner and came straight over. When I got here, I saw your packed bags by the door and I panicked."

"So you decided to tear apart my car?"

"Drastic times, drastic measures," she shrugged.

"At least you didn't do any serious damage."

"I know how much you love that car," she said, leaning forward to grab the soap and washcloth from the other end of the tub. "I didn't want to ruin it for good," she continued, looking back over her shoulder at him expectantly.

"Well, I guess I should thank you for that," he winked at her, lifting his arms from around her waist and stretching them out in front of her.

"Matt's the one you should be thanking," she replied, settling back against his chest and scrubbing his hands and forearms with the washcloth. "I called him and he talked me through it."

"Seriously?" He asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"Yep, he's Team Damon," she informed him, smiling smugly and handing off the soap and washcloth.

"More like Team Elena," he snorted, raising an eyebrow at her.

She let her eyes slip shut as Damon cleaned the second helping of grease from her hands, enjoying the simple intimacy of the moment and steeling herself for the confession she knew she had to make if she was going to convince him to stay.

"He helped because he's the only one, besides me, who believes that what I feel for you is real."

Damon froze. "And why is that?"

"Because I told him … before I died."

The bar of soap hit the bottom of the tub with a _thunk_ – a virtual exclamation point on her statement. His other hand closed around her wrist, turning her to face him.

"You did what?"

"After I got back from the hospital the first time, I was in and out, having dreams about my life before my parents' accident, before you and Stefan," she explained, staring down at her hands that were now resting on his chest, unable to look him in the eye. "Matt asked about my feelings for both of you. I told him that Stefan was safe, that he made me glad to be alive after my parents' death. And I told him that I couldn't bear the thought of losing either one of you."

"Either of us?" He asked, bringing a hand to her cheek and forcing her to meet his questioning gaze.

"I told him that you consumed me," she admitted, and she heard his breath hitch and saw his eyes widen at the familiar words. "And at the time, that kind of love scared the hell out of me, Damon. But now," she continued, gently encircling his wrist with her hand and leaning into his palm, "I think it's the only thing keeping me alive. _You_ make me glad to be alive."

He closed his eyes, turning his face away from her. "Elena, the sire bond -," he started, sounding more tortured than she'd ever heard him before.

She knew exactly what he was going to say, so she cut him off immediately.

"Is there because those feelings already existed, _when I was human_. The only difference is I'm not afraid anymore. I don't know if that's because of the vampirism or the sire bond, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm in love with you."

He grimaced as if he were in pain. When she raised her hand to cup his cheek, turning his face back to her, she was unsurprised to find tears in his eyes.

"_You_ are everything I am looking for, Damon," she declared. "I want _you_."

Damon's face had gone blank again, but his eyes boring into hers revealed a torrent of emotions. His silent response dragged on for minutes until a lone tear finally escaped down his cheek. She moved to wipe it away, but he seized her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and when they reopened, her heart shattered at the cool indifference that was reflected back at her. He disentangled himself from her and stood, stepping out of the tub and pulling the stopper in the process.

"Damon-" she called after him.

"The water's cold," he stated impassively, slinging a towel around his waist and retreating to the bedroom.

She sat motionless as the water receded around her, all the while thinking the sucking sound of the drain was the universe laughing at her – mocking her for each wrong turn she'd taken in the past year when it came to this man. If she'd only told him how she really felt about him before she'd died, before she'd become a vampire, before the damn sire bond had been thrown in their way, the truth of her feelings wouldn't be in doubt now. But she hadn't, and so there she was, sitting alone in his tub, as the water, and her life, slowly drained away.

When the last of the water was gone, she stood carefully, finding her legs less than steady. She stepped out of the tub, bracing herself against the shower wall for support, and covered herself in the robe she'd left on the sink counter. She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed, for the first time, the tear-tracks on her own face. Taking a deep breath, she wiped them away before turning and entering the bedroom.

Damon was kneeling by the fireplace, stoking the fire she'd started earlier, and as the flames roared back to life, he sat down on the leather cushions he'd placed in front of it, staring straight ahead without acknowledging her presence.

She stood awkwardly between him and the bed, not sure whether to stay or go, hoping desperately that the fire would warm his soul to her prior declaration and that the tidal wave of feelings she'd seen in his eyes hadn't overwhelmed him to the point of shutting them off all together.

Glancing away from him to reign in her own turbulent emotions, she caught sight of the bed, at the mess she'd made earlier, and she felt guilty for displacing him from the place he loved best in this house.

"I'm sorry about the Camaro … and the bed," she said, breaking the silence.

He dismissively waved a hand in her direction, and she could feel the cold tentacles of despair twisting around her heart. If this was goodbye, then she had one final thing to say to him, one more thing she needed to do. She tugged her robe more tightly around her, fighting back tears as she approached him from behind.

"And I'm sorry for hurting you," her voice cracked, fighting the sob that was working its way up her throat. "What I did was incredibly selfish, and I'm sorry. If you don't believe anything else is real, at least believe that."

She threaded her fingers through his hair one last time, praying for some reaction, and when none came, she leaned down to kiss the crown of his head before turning to leave.

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and turning her back to him, his eyes locking with hers.

"You were wrong, Elena."

"I know that Damon," she agreed, her eyes falling to the floor. "What I did to you was wrong."

"Not about that, Elena," he growled, and she could hear the frustration in his voice. But when his lips pressed a tender kiss into her palm, she gasped in surprise, her eyes snapping back up to his. Gone was the cool indifference, and in its place were determination and something else that gave her hope.

"Matt's not the only other person that believes you," he whispered urgently, and she lost her breath, the full weight of his words slamming into her chest.

Before she could form a coherent reply, she was lying on her back on the cushions beneath him, their bodies pressed together intimately, his lips devouring hers. She responded without hesitation, kissing him back with all the pent-up tension of the past two weeks, the desperation of the past two hours, until uncontrollable laughter bubbled up from inside her. He laughed with her between kisses, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears of joy that streamed down her face and into her now-loosened hair.

Laughs quickly gave way to inarticulate sounds of desire when he untied her robe and began to run his hands over her naked body. She arched her back off the cushions, pressing one breast into his greedy palm while he worked the nipple of the other with his tongue and teeth, teasing it into a painfully pleasurable state. He ran his other hand down her side, over her butt, giving it a firm squeeze before drifting lower to hitch her thigh up and around his waist. She wound her other leg around him, digging her heels into his ass and rocking their hips together. The towel still wrapped around his waist delivered a jolt of delicious friction against her already hypersensitive clit.

"Damon," she moaned, tugging him up by his hair to meet her lips again, their tongues sliding against each other's as their hands continued to reacquaint themselves with the dips and curves they'd not had nearly enough time to enjoy before. She used her feet around his waist to toe off his towel, the both of them groaning into each others mouths when his rock-hard erection came into contact with her hot wet center, and she wrangled a strangled hiss from between his teeth when she skirted a hand between their bodies to take his length in her firm grip and guide him to where she needed it most.

He thrust into her slowly at first, and then at a steadier pace once they found their rhythm together again. Letting her head fall back off the edge of the cushion as he kissed and nipped his way down her neck, she closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of having him wrapped around her, inside her – the heat between them chasing the chill of loneliness from her veins. As their movements became more frantic, she clutched his ass and then this shoulders, meeting him thrust for thrust, while he snaked one hand behind her back, pulling her chest tight against his, and the other tangled in her hair, bringing her head up from the cushion's edge and level with his again. When she re-opened her eyes and met his clear bright blue ones, they were burning with the belief and conviction she'd been so desperate to find there, and with one last passionate kiss, she brought them both to the edge of ecstasy, and they fell over it together.

After several minutes of contented silence lying in each other's arms as they came down from their release, he lifted his head, propping his chin up on her breastbone. He was wearing that lazy smile she'd only briefly seen on their first morning after, before everything had gone to hell. He was happy. Her heart swelled, and she was helpless to stop the smile that was surely threatening to break her own face in two.

"So, where exactly are we going to sleep, seeing as how I've ruined your bed for the time being?" she asked.

"There are several other bedrooms in this house," he answered, rolling his eyes at her playfully.

"Yeah, but I'm pretty comfy right here," she replied, tightening her arms and legs around him.

"Fine, little miss amateur mechanic, have it your way," he teased, dropping a quick kiss on her breast before rolling off her and reaching behind them to grab the comforter she'd thankfully tossed to the floor before piling the Camaro's engine parts on his bed. He threw the comforter over them, and then settled back against her side, draping one leg over hers and pulling her mostly back underneath him, a possessive arm wrapped tightly around her middle. He used his other hand to brush back her hair, intent on nuzzling into the side of her neck.

"I think you may have renewed my faith in the Christmas spirit, but if you _ever_ touch the insides of my car again, I'll go right back to being the Grinch, yougotthat?" he mumbled just below her ear, the threat of his words somewhat undermined when he slurred the last few together, a dead give way that he was drifting off to sleep.

"Yeah, I got it," she sighed happily, snuggling close against him and weaving her fingers through his hair once more. She was at peace again for the first time in weeks, back home where she belonged, nestled in his arms. When she heard the old grandfather clock downstairs strike midnight, she smiled and gave his forehead a lingering kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Damon," she whispered, before closing her eyes and letting the crackling fire, his warm breath on her neck and the chorus of Do-Re-Mi playing in her head gradually soothe her to sleep.

**THE END**

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